by Lisa Suzanne
My cheeks flush, but before I can respond, he says lightly, “It’s nice to see you with a smile this time.”
I cover half my face with my hand. “I’m mortified about the other morning,” I say.
He chuckles and waves a dismissive hand through the air. “Don’t be. We’ve all had bad mornings.”
“Thank you,” I say, sure there must be a more socially appropriate response that’s currently absent from my brain.
He levels his gaze on me for a few beats, and I half expect him to ask me why I was crying or what I was doing at the Mandarin Oriental early on a Sunday morning. He doesn’t, though. Instead, he clears his throat and asks, “What can I do for you today?”
His eyes penetrate me, and I avert my gaze to the window, drinking in the familiar view of the Strip. It centers me, calms me. This is my home turf. I’ve got this. I force myself to look at him—a big mistake considering those handsome eyes are still pinned on me.
“I’m here on behalf of Desert Lights High School.” My voice is shaky, but once I start the speech I’ve given in prior years to other companies, I’m sure it’ll calm.
“The appointment on my schedule said something about a fundraiser for the high school?”
“Yes,” I say, getting to the point of why I’m here. I focus on the matter at hand and ignore how hot he is, how much he unnerves me. “Every fall, we host a fundraiser and we ask local businesses for donations. It’s a huge event in our community and it takes place over Homecoming weekend.” I pull this year’s brochure out of my purse and slide it across his desk. Our fingers brush in the process, and the desire that fell asleep in my body as I left Mark’s place seems to awaken. I draw in a breath. It’s just an attraction. This man is gorgeous and he’s distracting me from why I’m here.
“You can look through the brochure from this year’s event. The weekend includes things like a parade and a formal ball for the adults with a silent auction. Any donation is helpful. Some companies choose to donate an auction item, others give a monetary donation.” I point to the brochure. “You can see the different tiers of thanks we offer depending on donations. Most companies like seeing their logo on our event t-shirts or on a banner in the football stadium. We also display our biggest donors on a plaque in the gym. Is this something you might be interested in?”
I think I might be beaming with pride that I managed to get that entire speech out of my mouth without sounding like a complete and total idiot.
“Absolutely.”
“Great. I’m happy to give you a form my principal drafted up and you can get back to me with your exact donation, or I can—”
He interrupts me. “Ten thousand.”
“What?” I ask, positive I misheard him.
“Ten thousand dollars.” He flashes that same cocky smile at me again. “With conditions, of course.”
“What?” I repeat stupidly, my jaw hanging open.
“We’ve been looking for a charitable cause in Vegas, and I know there are lots of opportunities, but you’re the first person who didn’t just send a form email asking for money.”
“Ten…ten thou…My God. Ten thousand?” I’m stuttering like a fool, but I think I may be in shock. I cough and clear my throat. “Are…are you sure?”
He nods. “Yes.”
“What are the conditions?”
“Dinner. Tomorrow night.”
“I’d be happy to send something to your home.” Shit, for a donation that size, I suppose I can spare a few dollars to send a pizza or something.
He chuckles. “That’s cute. I meant dinner with you.”
My mouth forms a surprised O. I inhale in a sharp breath. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr. Fox.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Why not?” He seems like one of those guys who is used to getting his way.
“Wouldn’t it be a conflict of interest?”
He shrugs. “I’m not giving you the money. I’m giving it to your school.”
“Still, I don’t think so. But I appreciate the offer.”
He busies himself by picking up a folder from his desk. “Sorry we couldn’t reach an agreement,” he says, swinging the folder open and focusing on the papers inside instead of me. “Kelsey should be at her desk just outside my door. She can show you out.”
“So that’s it? I won’t go to dinner with you so you’re just going to pull your offer?”
He looks up at me and maintains his composure. “I told you it had conditions.”
“I’m not here to whore myself out.” The inappropriate words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. All I can think of is the fact that this man knows I keep condoms in my purse.
His eyebrows shoot up. “I didn’t ask you to. I simply asked you to dinner.”
It’s possible I’m overreacting. “I apologize. You’re right. I’m just, uh, not available.”
“Meaning you have plans tomorrow night?” Brian asks. “Or meaning you’re in a relationship?”
I clear my throat. “Neither. I’m just not looking to get involved right now.”
“It’s just a dinner.” He picks up a pen and twirls it around in his fingers. “I didn’t even call it a date, and you already denied me once when you wouldn’t allow me to buy you a cup of coffee over the weekend.”
I can’t tell if he’s being a jerk or if he’s swaying me toward agreeing to go to dinner with him. My brain wanders to what he might be hiding under that navy suit as I lean toward the latter. “Aside from dinner, what other conditions do you have in mind?” I ask.
He thinks for a minute, and then he levels his gaze at me. “That’s it.”
“So, if I agree to go to dinner with you tomorrow night, you’ll donate ten grand to my school?”
He sticks out his bottom lip and pretends to think deeply for a second. “That about sums it up.”
“You think one dinner with me is worth ten grand?”
“You don’t?”
“I’ve never thought about putting a price on it, to be honest.” I close my eyes and rub my forehead. “Where and when?” I finally ask, not because I think this is a good idea, but because ten thousand dollars would go a long way.
He feigns shock. “You’re agreeing to go?”
I shrug. “My school could use that kind of money. Plus, you wore me down.”
“You’re funny, Reese,” he says with a laugh. “I like you.”
I feel that all too familiar heat climbing into my cheeks, and I don’t know what to say. He’s so handsome sitting there behind his desk—and not just handsome, but powerful—ready to conquer the business world.
I’m saved from having to reply to his flirtations by his cell phone buzzing. He glances down at the screen. “I have to take this. Leave your number with Kelsey and I’ll text you the details for tomorrow.”
I nod and stand.
He answers his phone with his eyes on me. “Brian Fox.”
I leave his office as shudders run through my spine, give his bitchy secretary my number with a fake smile, and go home to stupidly wait for his text.
five
Unknown Number: I have a reservation for eight o’clock at Brasserie inside Caesar’s. Text me your address and I’ll come pick you up.
Me: Who is this?
Brian: You know who this is.
Me: Do I?
Brian: It’s the one paying ten grand for a dinner with you. Also the one who can name just about every item you carry in your purse.
Me: I thought the money wasn’t for me.
Brian: Right. Conflict of interest.
Me: I mean, if you want to make the check out to me, I wouldn’t say no.
Brian: How about dinner first? I still need your address.
Me: I’ll meet you there.
Brian: See you at eight.
I don’t reply as I picture his cocky grin in my head. Instead, I yell, “Jill!” from my bed. She appears in my doorway.
“What?”
“Brian just texted me
the details. Dinner at Caesar’s. I need your help.”
“With what?”
I roll my eyes. “Duh. What am I supposed to wear?”
She grins and heads toward my walk-in closet while I stay planted on my bed. She emerges with a few hangers and holds up a black dress.
I shake my head. “Little black dress? Too cliche.”
She holds up a red dress next. I shake my head. “Too slutty. I don’t want to give the wrong impression.”
“You’re putting more thought into this than it deserves if it isn’t a date.” Her voice turns to a teasing singsong. “I think someone might be a little excited.”
I narrow my eyes at her and give her a smirk to hide the actual excitement starting to bubble inside me. “You stop it right now and show me more clothes.”
She giggles. “How about this one?”
It’s a glitzy gold dress that’s perfect. It makes my golden brown hair shimmer, my skin glow, my blue eyes pop. It’s perfect for my date—even though I’m still pretending it’s not a date—but there’s one problem.
It’s bad luck.
“That’s the dress I was wearing the night Justin and I ended things.” Justin and I broke up about six months ago. I convinced myself he was my forever, my happily ever after, and then one day he decided he didn’t want a commitment. I’m over what happened between us, but it was a tough breakup.
“Sounds like it’s time to make some new memories in it.”
“Or I could go buy something new.” I think of the lump sum paycheck I’ll get in a couple of weeks that will have all my earnings for the summer months.
“Don’t you need to budget for the summer?”
“Shut up.”
She sets her hand on her hip and looks at me like she’s about to scold a child. “You’re the one who told me not to let you blow through your big summer check.”
“You didn’t have to listen to me,” I mutter. I shoot her the middle finger.
“Nice.” She tosses the gold dress on my bed. “Wear that and stop being a child.”
“Or I could borrow something from you…”
She folds her arms over her chest. “Like the time you borrowed my white sweater and spilled red wine on it? I don’t think so.”
“I hate you. And I’m not planning on drinking red wine with Brian Fox. He’s too scary for me to get tipsy.”
She looks alarmed. “He’s scary? Why are you going out with him, then?”
“Not scary like he’s going to kill me. Scary like he’s hot and I’m terrified I’ll like him.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?”
I nod. “Yes, it would be. I’m not ready yet.”
Jill sits on the edge of my bed. “Because of Mark?”
I blow out a breath. “Flashes of our night together keep attacking me at the most inappropriate times. Like yesterday, I’m sitting there minding my own business while my students took their exams, and I couldn’t stop thinking of how tender he was when he kissed me in his bedroom.”
“You didn’t tell me about that.”
I lift a shoulder. “It’s hard to talk about. I wasn’t supposed to get emotionally invested.”
She grabs my foot affectionately. “I get it, babe. It was everything you hoped it would be, but that’s it.”
“It was more than I hoped it would be. But that’s it,” I repeat.
“What else did he do?”
I lift a shoulder. “Stuff.”
“Did he do it well?”
I pick at my comforter. “He didn’t get his reputation because he sucks in bed.” I close my eyes as I think about his lips connecting with mine. Lip on lip, tongues clashing. Sensual, slow, carnal. The nerves darting through my belly as his arms came around me, when his hands ran up my back and tangled in my hair.
I can’t stop thinking about how he made me feel inside—like I was a goddess and he was there to worship. He had to have felt it, too. Something that strong can’t be just one-sided. I remind myself how much it doesn’t matter. I have to move forward, and dinner with Brian Fox in my gold bad luck dress could be the answer.
I clear my throat and force the image of his mouth over mine out of my head. “And he’s got these abs like you see in the pictures, but they were real and they were right in front of me.”
“Did you touch them?”
I give her a look that clearly says, duh.
“You’re so lucky. I’d bang any of them, to be honest,” she says.
“Any of the members of Vail?”
She nods. “Ethan with the abs on drums? Fuck yeah. James with the brown eyes on bass? You bet. Steve and those long, strong fingers of his on guitar and sometimes the keys? Sure, why not.”
I giggle. “It was like someone put out an ad for hot guys to be in a band together and they all met up.”
“I wonder if that’s how they met.”
“I read an article once that two of them were from Illinois and two were from Virginia and they met at some summer music festival in Wisconsin.”
“I knew about Illinois and Virginia because that’s how they got their name, isn’t it?”
I nod. “V-A and I-L.”
“Tell me about his house.”
“The view of the Strip from there was unbelievable.”
“Big kitchen?”
She’s obsessed with HGTV, so I always take note of kitchens whenever I go to someone’s house so I can report back.
“Yeah. Everything was white and stainless. The counters were white quartz with those little sparkles.”
“Bedroom?”
“Black and white. And, God, the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in. Like one of those memory foam ones.”
“You realize that’s the most you’ve told me about that night, don’t you?”
“I guess it’s getting easier.”
“Or this Brian Fox guy already has you moving forward.”
“See? That’s why he’s so damn scary.”
*
I sweep my palms down my gold dress. “Do I look okay?”
“You look gorgeous. Go get him. Stay the night at his place so I can twerk naked in the kitchen all night. Have some fun.”
“Please don’t twerk anywhere ever, naked or fully clothed. It’s not a thing anymore.”
She raises both hands up in confusion, and I laugh.
“I love you, Jilly Bean.”
“I love you too, Reese’s Pieces.”
“I’ll find out if he has a friend for you.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah. That’s all I need.”
“If you can push me into trying something new, I can do the same for you.”
She had her heart broken when her ex cheated on her a few weeks after Justin and I ended things. It’s been a rough half a year in our house, but tonight feels like the start of something new.
I pick up my clutch from the counter and make sure I have the essentials: lip gloss, wallet, and cell phone. No condom—just in case I empty this one all over the floor again, I don’t want Brian getting the wrong idea.
“Have fun,” she says.
I blow her air kisses and head out the door.
It’s Wednesday night, my first official evening of summer break. This morning all I had to do was turn in my grades and check out with my department chair. She didn’t mention the donation from FDB Tech Corp yet, so I’m curious if Brian is waiting to donate until I show up for this dinner. I’m also wondering if he’s going to attach any other conditions. He said this was the only one, but who knows if he was telling the truth?
My hands start shaking the closer I get to Caesar’s. Traffic’s a bitch getting here, as it always is on an evening in Las Vegas, and it’s been distracting enough to keep my mind off this dinner.
But now that I’m pulling my Ford Escape into the valet lane, the fear is hitting me full force. I’m not ready to go on a date with someone, not when I still feel Mark’s hands on my body, not when I keep thinking he’ll show up around th
e next corner.
I find the restaurant a few minutes early and stand out front. When I spot Brian strolling through the casino, he’s even more devastatingly handsome than I remembered with his thick, dark hair brushed up and parted to the side. Stubble peppers his chin.
He wears a black suit with a black tie as if he didn’t stop home after work, yet he looks fresh and crisp again, all clean, hard lines. He’s talking on his cell phone, but as soon as he spots me, he cuts the call short. He saunters through the casino, and when he’s standing in front of me, he gives me his signature cocky grin. My heart starts racing, and I stick out my hand to shake his as he leans in for a hug. Instead of a hug, my extended arm jabs him in the ribs. He jumps back, and I giggle nervously.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“I like the dress.” His voice is low and close to me, an unexpected seductive promise. A shudder runs down my spine. With just the hint of rasp in his voice, I half expect him to say that he’d like it better on the floor, but he doesn’t. “Let’s try this again.” He leans in and presses a surprise kiss on my cheek.
“Uh…blerg.” Words escape me as my cheeks burn a bright red. I clear my throat. “Thanks,” I manage. I draw in a breath. “You look nice, too.”
He holds out his arm to escort me to the hostess stand. The move is antiquated yet provocative as I slip my arm through his. I find comfort in his heat against my side as I start to relax—even though I was a bundle of nerves mere seconds ago.
We’re seated at a table overlooking the casino. We’re far enough away that the noise doesn’t prove a distraction yet close enough to feel part of the action.
“Are you a gambler?” I ask, nodding toward the casino after he orders us a bottle of red wine.
We both pick up our menus.
He shrugs. “Sometimes. You?”
“Not really. I don’t make enough money to spend it frivolously.” I pretend to peruse my menu. Money talk this early in a date can’t be good.
Except this isn’t a date.
“What teachers are paid just isn’t right.”
“No arguments here.”
He chuckles, then we’re both quiet for a few beats as we look at our menus. I try to pretend it isn’t awkward silence. He’s the one who wanted this date, so I wait for him to say something.
